The Fall
by Killjoe
Summary: The tale of the White Angels Chapter of Space Marines
1. Chapter 1

1st company captain Malkus stood behind the mechanical door leading to the meeting hall inside the White Angel's Fortress Monastery, the ship was much larger than most and scores of human lives had been lost during its years of creation, it was truly a testament to the great power of the Imperium, the corridor leading to the door barely held his massive frame, his bulk was indeed larger than most _Astartes_, they had barely found a set of armor within the Chapter's archives to fit him.

The armor was a bright white, freshly polished; the angel wings were a glaring silver, they adorned his right shoulder pad, the large black I on his shoulder looked out place practically tainting the pure whiteness with its black coloring, two gold studs were implanted on top of his brow, showing his hundred years of service within the _Adeptus Astartes, _and he was proud of it and he couldn't believe he'd spend so long fighting the Emperor's enemies, even though hundreds of his battle brothers had fallen in blessed combat, he'd still dealt death to even more Xenos, destroying the enemies of mankind was his greatest calling of all, nothing would stop him from crushing each Ork, burning each Heretic or purging the unclean flesh of a mutant.

The bolter in his right hand had dealt the death the Xenos and betrayers deserve, crafted upon a pollution engulfed Forge World where the air hurt to breath and the sky was gray in the stead of the normal blue coloring. The Chain sword was held in left his, his four giant fingers just under the trigger, always ready in the case of a threat, though the possibility of their being one on this great mechanical warship was a very slim chance, an _Astartes_ was always prepared, always ready for a threat if there was none, it was always a good thing to be on your guard, never letting your skills dull. The training had been taught to him for years, showing him how to use his body as weapon and his weapons as tools of death.

A rough scar traced his cheek, the Choppa of an Ork from a recent campaign had pierced the roughened flesh, a crusade that had robbed the chapter of their master, forcing Malkus to take his spot as the Chapter Master of the White Angels Space Marines. Darius had fought a brave fight against the War boss of an Ork Clan, a giant even compared to most Nobs, Malkus was force to fight the War Boss, vanquishing it from the living world, if it hadn't been for its already weakened frame, he would've been crushed like a ragdoll.

He recalled his face being ruggedly handsome once, but before his induction into the Space Marines, his memories were hazy, though he could recall everything as though it were yesterday after he had been given the holy Gene-seed. But now his face was a scar ridden husk of what it had once been burns, cut, everything that had hit him left evidence on his face. His brown hair was short, shaven to make sure the enemy or a sparring partner couldn't use it to their advantage, many times he considered shaving it off, but he had never done so, yet he didn't know why, after his promotion to Chapter Master, he would be sure to shave it off finally.

A cold feeling was in his veins, one of sorrow and displeasure, he was not ready to take up the mantle of Chapter Master and lead a thousand _Astartes_ into holy battle. The previous one had been much wiser then he, having more experience then Malkus could've ever have. A plain frown was on his scarred face, persistent to show his disappointment, he would've been perfectly content on leading the 1st company into battle for the rest of his life even though it might be short, even though he knew all of the names of the Space Marines in the Chapter's rank's, he was still neutral with some, and thought ill tempered by others. This assessment was true; his temper was small, but only because of dealing with years' worth of ignorant Imperial Guard officers.

His hands clipped the holy sword to his belt, clamping the bolter pistol to his waist as well, and his hand reached out opening the door to the gathering room of the White Angel's Fortress Monastery. Revealing hundreds of _Astartes_ lined up in perfect order, all wearing helmets as they stood emotionless, forming a path in the middle for their soon to be Chapter Master to walk, they did not swaying, looking proud as they held their bolters at their sides. Before him was the red carpet, lined with golden thread, it was a magnificent piece of colored tailoring. At the end of it was the head Chaplain of the White Angels. His silver skull helm hiding any emotion that maybe expressed beneath it. He held the most years under his belt, if anyone were to take over Durious's position, it should've been him.

Slowly, his pure white boats strode toward the Chaplain, each one landing with a loud thud, echoing throughout the chamber. He slouched his shoulders, his massive frame unable to be supported fully by his. His head stared forward looking in the direction of the holy battle brother, not swaying to look upon the tactical marines that made up most of the Chapter's ranks. Unlike most Chapters, their ranks weren't as badly depleted; they were still in a large supply of Gene-seed, the holy seed of creation which was bestowed upon every initiate that proved themselves worthy.

Finally, the long walk brought him to Chaplain Moreas, kneeling before him, his head bowed in respect to his righteousness. "Chaplain, I come before you a captain, our great Chapter Master has fallen in holy battle, defending the glorious word of the God-Emperor. I have been chosen by chain of command to lead the White Angels Chapter of Space Marines. I ask you to bestow upon me, the Emperor's blessing, so I may serve him in death and life, along with all future campaigns." He did his best to make his voice sound proud, and in a way he was, he was just not amused to be in this position.

"Rise, Brother Malkus, know that the Emperor has bestowed upon you his blessing, know that the Emperor of Mankind has chosen you to lead his Angels of Death into holy combat against his foes. Do not betray his trust Malkus, for he has put a finger upon you." Moreas said, turning away from the Captain to the container of an ancient relic, passed down from Master to Master, it was the best part of being the Chapter Leader, being able to wield the holy hammer.

Moreas knelt, prying open the container and pressing the Stasis field off, the power which had made it immune to time, his hand grasped it and raised it, revealing the ancient power hammer that had killed thousands of heretics and Xenos, the greatest of the Chapter's artifacts was soon to be in his hands and this part was the only thing that truly excited him. "Malkus, Aegeris is the most powerful of all of the Chapter's relics, as a sign of trust from the God-Emperor, we, The Chapter, bestow it upon you, kill many a heretic with it Malkus. Rise, and grasp the ancient Power Hammer in your hands. Since the first founding the hammer has been in the Chapter, even through the late years of the Great Crusade."

Malkus rose, extending his arms out so the hammer may finally be his, the Chaplain dropped Aegeris into his hands and he closed his eyes, the holiness of the weapon almost too great to bear. The power surging through his veins, the hammer was lighter than any sword he has ever wielded, but he could since the sheer power behind it. How many lives has this relic ended? How many heretics has it banished to warp? A number far beyond counting, its number of casualties it had inflicted may have well numbered in the hundreds of thousands.

In sequence the Chapter's Marines recited a prayer from the Emperor's holy book, the words were all said in unity, not one faltered, and even the Chaplain's voice joined these marines. It was a beautiful prayer, even though the Marine's voices were rugged, and deep.

"_**At battle's end, speak his name in a clear voice. Respect the bravery of the living. Crush those who would dare disrespect his name. Honor the dead that have fought for him in battle. The Emperor is the only being that may claim dominance over the Galaxy; he is the one, the only true god of humanity. Praise his name always." **_The prayer was one of his favorites, its spoke of the greatness that was truly the Emperor, and as he turned, Aegeris in the grasp of his hand, overlooking his battle brothers. He thought he might just may a great Chapter Master yet.


	2. Chapter 2

_Incompetent fool. _It was the only two words that filled his mind as he spoke to the arrogant Planetary Governor. Chapter Master Malkus sat at the head of the table, tapping the glass coating with his large fingers. The table was located inside the Imperial Palace on a world known as Korlea, a Hive world containing billions of souls, at the table sat rich and old Cartel owners with their assistants that held data pads containing any information they may need for the meeting, number of weapon stockpiles, how many vehicles they had that were sellable, all this information was at their disposal. He liked imperials, but only to a extent, and right now, they were pushing it.

"Enough! The Golden Throne be damned! I can't take this cursed ranting!" Malkus finally shouted, his voice booming over all others, instantly, the room quieted, the arrogant imperials had just made the wrong move, making a _Astartes_ curdle with sheer rage, it filled his veins, and if left uncheck, would soon consume him, and the resulting fallout of his explosion, would be horrid to these aristocrats beyond belief.

"I am tired of this Emperor damned bickering, it does not matter if you can salvage your Cartel's, and by the time the Orks invade we will blow them to the warp! They cannot be allowed such salvage to construct their vehicles, this is the final jurisdiction, a week from now, you will all be evacuated to the capitol Spire, and there will be no complaining. I feel as if I'm talking to children!" He sat back in his seat, awaiting the immanent response. He buried his head inside his hands, rubbing his temples as the first of the complaints rolled in.

"Chapter Master Malkus, that is unacceptable, I have spent my whole entire life building the Berithmue Cartel to where it is, we cannot afford to blow it. I demand you send a company of your finest _Astartes _to defend it! Else you will not be provided my ammunition!" A wrinkly old man shouted, he had under gone many surgeries to look younger; it looked as if his whole entire body was plastic, a toy you would give a mere child.

"Alright then sirs, since it seems you are commanding me now, my White Angels will be on our way, it is a sad day when a pathetic Cartel owner disrespects an angel of death. And it shall not be tolerated, we are not yours to command, we chose who are worthy to protect, and so far, I have seen little evidence to prove you all worthy of life." The room quieted, glares all pointed into the direction of the elder, but he continued. _As a babe he must've been dropped on his head._ The thought put a smirk on his face.

"I am more impo-" His words were halted almost immediately. Malkus had reached his hand to his belt and pulled out his giant bolter pistol, one that had served him well by killing hundreds of heretics, and now, it may very well be used to kill the incompetence that was placed before him. He set the weapon on the glass table, making a dull thud and a slight crack in the once pure surface. His glare was cool, his green eyes looking dead on at the elderly man, speaking that shutting his mouth my very well be the only thing to save him from this situation.

"What is your name you arrogant husk?" Malkus asked, leaning back into the chair, even though it barely held him, it still was comfortable to sit in, unlike the chairs aboard the "Emperor's vengeance" there holy fortress monastery, currently orbiting the planet. "I like to know a man's name before I kill him." He said the tone equally as cool as his glare; it felt natural on his face, as if he won born into the world wearing it. The blood in the face of the elder drained completely, it reminded him of a man who bleeds out, there last dyeing moments there weakest. The only sound in the room was the distant construction of new defenses to the Capitol Spire, the Orks were soon to be planet bound, and the White Angels Chapter of Space Marines needed all the advantages they could receive to destroy the imminent Green Skin threat.

"M-my name is D-D-Deputis my lord, pl-" Before he could finish, Malkus interrupted the old man, not eager to her his last begging words, yet he wouldn't kill him, there would be too much whip lash involved, it was better to have people respect you instead of fearing you.

"I will not kill you Deputis, for I fear time may do that deed for me, but I want you to know, Deputis, never, ever, disrespect me again, else my bolter will deal death to you. This, I swear. This as well goes for all of you. I am an Astartes, and I damn well deserve to be treated as one. Am I clear?!" The Chapter Master yelled across the room, silence was the only thing to replace it after the screech faded, it was a silent agreement he assumed.

Malkus's eyes went to the P.D.F. commander's breast plate, reading the name 'Davian'. "The Green skins will be here in 7 days time, we will use the time provided to circulate a plan. First, however, I need to know what resources we have. Davian, how many P.D.F. do we have?" The question was addressed to the Planetary Defense Force commander, a well trimmed man dressed in the traditional garbs of a commander of the Emperor's Hammer.

He scrambled, grabbing up his data pad and reading the number clearly. "Our current number of Guardsmen is 231,569. With seven armor columns consisting of 300 vehicles each, currently all P.D.F. divisions are being deployed to salvage any valuable resources from the Cartel compounds." His voice was eerily clear, odd for a commander of toy soldiers.

A sigh escaped his mouth, one of anger. "These numbers are absolutely unacceptable. I want all able bodied men to receive las-guns and a set of armor. The Orks will be too great of number to withstand with such a meager number. We will be overwhelmed within a matter of hours if this is this case, and I assure you Davian, I do not plan to end my vigilance over the Chapter just yet."

Davian spoke up loudly, it was clear he was new to this position; he was arrogant to say the least. "Sir, these will just be men without a clue how to fire las-guns. They'll be massacred." A frown played across his face.

"I am counting on it Davian, they'll weaken and distract the Ork army, they will all fall in the name of the Emperor. A most glorious death indeed, if you were to ask me, they must sacrifice themselves for the better meant of the Imperium." Davian formed a look of disgust, horrified at what Malkus suggested.

"Sir, these are human beings, you can't just kill them, I will not do such a horrible act, your speak is heretical, Malkus." Davian had made the worst mistake in his whole entire life. Accusing a Chapter Master of heresy, and he would pay dearly for such a horrid act, it was more insulting then anything he could possibly think of.

"Davian, you accuse me of heresy and you shall play deeply for it, no man accused me of such actions, I merely wish to destroy the Ork invaders, and to so, all able bodied men will report to the forward command base for assignment, they are to be considered drafted. As for you, Davian."

Malkus stood; picking up the clean, cold metal of the bolter, it was aimed at the small head of Commander Davian, whose eyes were wide with fear, his mouth opened slightly in realization. "As for you Davian, you are relieved." His finger clicked the hair trigger of the bolter, the bullet firing from the chamber and landing between his eyes, his body fell to the floor with a thud, the council members looked on in horror. Malkus, was frowning deeply, hating the loss of life that had just been inflicted.

"You will all, listen now." He sat, and for the rest of the meeting, they did.


	3. Chapter 3

"Stupidity Thomas, it is what leads the mortals. Stupidity is the seed in which corruption grows and thrives. It is our job as _Astartes_ to destroy stupidity that engulfs the Guard and Governors." Malkus spoke these words to the new first company captain, Thomas, who was looking up to him; his face was not as scar ridden as his, but during the battle, that soon may change. The Orks were ruthless, and Thomas would have to be equally as cruel.

"What if stupidity comes to the angels of death?" Thomas asked, making Malkus smiled. He turned his head away from the captain, overlooking the spire before them; the air that he breathed in was thankfully purified, the smog that filled the air was relentless, never subsiding for a moment, thanks to his implants, the worst of the pollution did not reach his lungs. It did not, however, filter the smell. It partially burnt his nose, and for a rare moment, he pitied the mortals. How must it have felt to breathe this polluted oxygen? The sky was dead, a dark grey instead of the beautiful blue he had seen on separate planets. He could only imagine how horrible the water must've been to drink, and by killing off many of the men of planet, he was truly doing them a favor. They needed to break down back to their roots, the over population would be solved, the factories destroyed, and over time, the smog would stop, the lung cancer would be fought back to only minimal cases. So in truth he would be doing the whole entire planet a service, a great service indeed.

"When stupidity plagues the Chapters, the Inquisition is called in to eradicate it. For all in all the Inquisition is the law of the Emperor, except they are sloppy. If this world were to fall, I doubt that Terra would even know this world is in the hands of Orks until a year from now. Our whole entire Imperium is in anarchy, I'm surprised it has yet to fall. With the Xenos and heretics that constantly assail it. The corrupt and scrambled Imperial government we have." Malkus said with a sigh, kneeling down to overlook the Spire better, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Thomas's horrified face.

"It is not heresy Thomas, it is merely fact, the only reason it has not fallen is because of us, the Angels of Death. The chosen of the Emperor, if it were not for us, the Imperium would've crumbled from its own weight. We are the pillars that hold it up, but even we are starting to take heavy casualties, the numbers of heretical planets are increasing, more and more Xenos are attacking us, if we held a constant supply of Gene-seed, armor, and implants, we would've easily conquered our enemies by now. All of the Galaxy would know the word of the Emperor, but when Horus turned against humanity's savior, our hope of holding the Galaxy died." He stood, clamping a hand on his battle brother's shoulder. Thomas had been his right hand man during his time as the first company captain, he had saved him many times and he him. And now with his promotion to first company captain of the White Angels, he would be the one to replace him if he fell in battle, which Malkus did not want, but neither did he wish to be the Chapter Master.

Yet it was his duty now that he was to safeguard the Chapter until he was relieved of his command and most likely his life. Thomas broke his chain of thought, with a series of sentences. "How long do you think we can hold out against the constant onslaught of enemies? Surely there must be something able to save us from the apocalypse you speak of." He said, sure that what he had said was crazy, but he could see realization that the words the Chapter Master had spoken were true, that dark years were ahead for the Imperium of mankind. And that their time as the Galaxies most powerful race may soon come to an end. Who would take charge after them? The Tau? The Forces of Chaos?

Everything inside him hoped the Tau might do well, despite their Xenos taint, but Chaos may very well set the Galaxy aflame. "Their maybe, the Emperor could be resurrected, the Xenos may have a giant war with each other, it would buy us time to regroup and destroy their remainder, but that is a slight chance. Our best chance is to hold out until further notice. Now come Thomas, our Chapter has set up a base inside the Imperial Palace. We must discuss our plans for the crusade, and quickly, within four days the Orks will be inside the system, and I'd prefer to fight a Green skin horde prepared, instead of being caught off guard." Malkus turned around, Thomas's tactical marines following behind the two as went to the Thunder hawk that had dropped them off onto the platform overlooking the city.

Part 2

"The Orks are much craftier then most Imperial propaganda would have us believe. They are capable of building technology that rivals our earlier types, though they may not be as intelligent, they still have numbers that would over whelm us in a heart be if we were not _Astartes_. We have only two advantages over them, superior weapons, and our belief in the Emperor." Tech Marine Sage said loudly, enabling all ten captains and the Chapter Master to hear.

"Our gun emplacements will annihilate the majority of their pods that try to land inside the city. But even if we kill the majority we will at least have to have a company search for all the pods that do make it inside and burn their corpses." The data map in the middle of the room showed the city and the several different gun emplacements the White Angels had erected. Sage indicated to all of these with his mechanical fingers.

"I suggest the 10th company lead mission, we have experience hunting Orks and plus we have executed several search and destroy missions. I strongly advise you consider us, Chapter Master." Adrain spoke up; he was the youngest of all of them, probably the youngest of all the Space Marines to take up the position of 10th company captain, yet he was right on the abilities of the tenth company and it might not be such a bad idea to send him on this mission to prove himself that he was a rightful commander.

"Alright Adrian, but do not fail me, you will find these Orks and burn them in the holy name of the almighty Emperor. Please go on Sage." The Tech Marine nodded, changing the map to a tactical one of their fleet and the Ork's fleet that would soon be here.

"The Orks hold a much superior fleet then ours, but only in number, otherwise we over pass them in everything else. But I must inform you, Chapter Master, that their ships are barely flyable, they would be barely able to withstand a single shot of our torpedoes. Our Fortress Monastery would be able to defeat their capitol vessel, but it would be damaged heavily and would most likely need years of repairs before it could be considered battle worthy. The rest of our fleet would be able to destroy the Ork's but the sheer number would knock out several of our ships. I advise that we engage them head on at the first stages of the attack, then fall back and conduct guerilla attacks on their fleet until it is worn away to the point where we could annihilate them." Sage zoomed in on the Monastery then the capitol ship of the Orks. Malkus silently debated the way of action to take on the matter. On one hand he could weaken the invasion greatly, but at the same time it would kill thousands along with the fact that most of their fleet would be unusable, or he could take minimal losses but the invasion would last much longer then intended. His decision was made up soon however, and his mouth opened and all of the Captains looked on, eagerly awaiting his response to the matter proposed.

"We will resort to guerilla tactics, while it may take more time, we will still need our fleet for future campaigns." Sage nodded and the rest of the Captains looked on approvingly at his decision.

"When the Orks land, we estimate that their numbers will be past 15 million strong, and within a week on the planetary surface their numbers will double. Our only option is to orbital bombard the first wave of Xenos sir." Sage showed the map of the city and its outskirts. "All residents will be assigned to their bunkers and this will be done by the local P.D.F. There are four places that would offer the most strategic value for a base. The mountains twenty miles north, the shore line 31 miles to the east or in the cartel facilities directly 10 miles north. We have already taken strategic actions and have set up explosives within the cartel grounds, if the Orks set up there, they'll be met with giant bang. And we have sent a team of initiates to map out the local mountains via Thunder Hawk. The shorelines that are nearby have been set with markers, 1 per 20 miles. Enabling us Orbital bombardments. There is only one area that gives us a predicament. It is the blind zone, directly five miles from our gates. Too far off for our guns and to close for a bombing run, this place is the most probable for a base." Sage showed a series of maps, each one enabling the vision of the base locations.

"The Green skins are crafty, but not extremely smart, I think they will just set down and see who gets to our gates the quickest." A look of worry flushed over the Tech Marine's face and instantly the Chapter Master knew something was wrong.

"Our lead Librarian believes that the Orkish horde is in possession of a Wierdboy. And as you know they give advanced intelligence to any horde. We predict them having the tactical mind of a young Neophyte." Malkus's face hardened, it was bad news to know that the horde has a psyker, a stupid Ork horde was hard to beat, but an intelligent horde was nearly impossible. This would require more planning then he had thought.

"This will be harder than I thought, as soon as the Orks land, our gates will be sealed, all defensive measures will be in place and as soon as the first wave of attackers is vanquished, we will meet the enemy on this place you speak of. Four companies of Space Marines will be sent to meet them and form a defensive line two miles from the city's gates. This line will be reinforced by the drafted P.D.F. and it will hopefully be held. The 1st, 2, 3, 4th, companies will hold this position, and after your 10th company have successfully eradicated any Orks, they will be sent to the line and help hold it. 6 company will be sent to take the mountains from the Orks, 7th will take up the shoreline, 8th will head to the Cartel grounds to eradicate any Xenos left, and 9th will be on riot duty, ensuring that any imperial citizen that acts violently will be dealt with. Shoot on sight. Prepare your companies and ready them for the battles ahead, for there are sure to be many. We are the Angels of Death battle brothers, take the Emperor deep into your heart and you will succeed. Deny him, and you will be cast aside like a dead dog for the flies. These are dark times brothers, but the Emperor's torch will guide us through it. For the Emperor Brothers!" He shouted this loudly, ensuring that whole room could hear him as he spoke; they all saluted, with respect to both him and their true God, dismissing themselves to go about their duties.


	4. Chapter 4

The bullet hit the rioter between the eyes, his head exploded into a mist of red along with large chunks of brain. It splattered onto those behind him, he was sent back several feet, the force behind the bolt sending him far into the ranks of the riot, hitting and knocking down several of his friends behind him, it was a messed, and some of the civilians hesitated, unsure of whether or not to go thru with it. Thomas found his opportunity and spoke up once more. "Citizens, this is your last chance. Turn around to you required bunkers where you may be assigned your duties, all able bodied men are to report to the P.D.F. H.Q. immediately." Some of them looked about ready to give, but then all hell broke loose.

A Molotov soared through the air, his eyes saw it in the air but he was too late, the bottle of alcohol with a piece of linen aflame burst at the feet of his second in command. Though it did not harm him, it angered them both greatly; the _Astartes _pointed his bolter towards the mass rank of civilians and fired rapidly. Some fell back, running in terror, while the majority charged forward, equipped with all sorts of hand weapons and even small las-guns.

It had on gone to hell so quickly, and not just here, but all over the city, after the order was give for all men sixteen to thirty were to report to the P.D.F. head quarters, the citizens had gotten edgy, but when they were assigned their bunkers and weren't allowed to take anything besides the clothes on their backs, it had angered them too much, instead of having the 9th company captain deal with them, Thomas had offered to quell the rebellion, at least until the Orks were planet bound.

Ten squads were posted in ten different districts. 2 men per street, it was stretching them thing, but with this many posts and districts covered, the riots would eventually give. But due to the fact that bolters couldn't hold off so many citizens, five people in each squad were issued flamers.

Over his vox, he heard the slightest sound of heavy bolter fire, but he barely picked up on it, ahead of him were hundreds of citizens carrying tools from the Cartels they worked at, hand guns from their security stash, or anything they could get their hands on. His bolter was trained firmly on them, firing into the ever coming ranks of the riot. Each shot found its mark, landing in a vital place and destroy it. Yet for each that fell, two more took his place.

Battle brother Osip pointed his flamer into the ranks of the rebels, pushing the trigger down and letting the flame of the Emperor engulf the heretics. The yellow tongue of the heat reached out far, setting several alright. Screams came from all over as their flesh was singed and scorched and agony engulfed them all; it was a beautiful sight indeed, seeing these heretical mongrels set to the torch, being purged from human history like a cream erased a rash. It spread from person to person, giving the people further cause to doubt what they were doing, but the momentum behind the riot pushed them forward into the fire.

This could've gone on for several minutes, had it not been for the gangster that rose from the ranks. He was taller than most of them, looking healthier then the majority of the rebels and he looked like the only person alive, his skin was tan, his face vibrant, he wore a uniform he had recognized on several of the scorched bodies of his brothers. In his hands was an advanced scatter gun, most likely taking from the Cartel's production lines. His finger clicked the trigger and the pellets were spread out over a wide area before knocking his battle brother to the ground.

"Osip!" Thomas called out in a sheer cry of anger, but it was already too late, the heretics were on him to quickly and even though he fought, they pried off his power armor and drove any sharp object they could into his body. The flamer lay a few feet from him, but it would be too far away to reach. Knowing that his death might very well be soon, he clipped the bolter to his waist, pulling out his combat knife, the size of a mortal sword. He held it upside down and charged at crowd and met them shoulder first, knocking several of them back and resulting in the death of several, along with a large amount of broken bones.

He swiped his fist to the right, the blade cut through the flesh of several, spraying the metal with blood, his offhand found the neck of a large man that held a two by four, with a small flick of his wrist he sent the man flying, his throat completely crushed thanks to the _Astartes _fingers. Objects of all kinds were being thrown at him and crashed against armor, quickly, while he had them by surprise, he bent down, and swept his leg in a circular motion, breaking several legs and landing many onto the hard asphalt, his offhand grabbed the bolter clipped to his side sprayed the area ahead of him, many of the former Imperial citizens fell to the ground, their bodies unidentifiable thanks to the large amount of bolts their body had taken.

His once pure white suit of armor was tainted by their traitorous blood, and he ran toward the next wave of rebels, firing the bolter in small bursts as he closed the gap between them, screaming the name of the Emperor as he did this, his shoulder piling through several, his hand swung the knife if all types of vertical motions, the blade sinking in their flesh and ripping the liquid that had given them life from them. A man dressed in the uniform similar to that of the gangster with the scatter gun he had seen earlier eventually entered his view, but by seeing a _Astartes_ so close, he was startled. Thomas took this chance and quickly drove the knife under the man's jaw, raising him up as the blade pierced the top of his skull and his jaw sank down to the hilt.

His hand gripped into the man's throat, ripping his blade from the head of the gangster, his head turned to the rioters who were standing in a sort of line, none of them making a move toward him. The man's body lay on the ground and Thomas walked back to where his battle brother lay, dragging him back from the carnage, though he was dead, it was Thomas's respect for the dead made him do this. The flamer lay next to his fallen battle brother. Replacing his bolter for it he charged the rebels once more. Screaming the words once used in the dark days of the Horus Heresy, Burn the Heretic.

The flame did not affect his armor, it was a pleasant heat. The heat a dog may enjoy while lying in the sun. He could not say the same for the fleeing rebels, who's cloths were alight with the holy flame of the Emperor, any of those unlucky enough not to die were quickly snuffed out by his combat knife. _For every Astartes that falls. A hundred mortals shall be sacrificed in his name. _It sounded as if it should be in the codex itself, the words made glorious sense to him.

He pointed his flamer to the right then sprayed the fire to left, letting the flame consume any survivors that were left. His armor was dyed the color of red, the blood from the traitors covered every inch of it. And he was happy to see them run and cower; none were above the law of the Chapters, no man, no woman.

"This is 1st company Captain Thomas reporting that street 3 has been cleared of any and all threats." He spoke this bit of information into his vox, waiting for a response before repeating himself.

"Roger Captain this is Chaplain Zachariah, streets 2, and 5 have been overran, we have currently fell back to the District center and have fortified our position there, and we require immediate assistance from you and Osip, over." The Chaplain spoke this through static, sound of gunfire and screaming could be heard in the back ground.

"Osip has fallen, I'm enroute with flamer and knife, I will give you relief soon, Chaplain." With that he began sprinting as fast as he could towards the district center, one hand holding a flamer, the other holding a large battle knife.

_Chaos. _It was the only word that filled his mind as he turned the corner, revealing the mess known as the district center. Inside the building which was formerly known as the Center, were the _Astartes_. Only four in all, there were hundreds upon hundreds of rebels clashing at their door, flames spit from windows, bolters unloaded there clips into the mass, but it did little.

"Zachariah, where are our reinforcements! By Terra, surely the Chapter Master can spare a company!" Thomas shouted in anger, Space Marines were dyeing and he couldn't spare a squad, the selfish arse.

"Negative Captain, the whole Chapter is spread thin as it is. The whole entire planet is in revolt. All companies have been deployed to all Spires in hopes of quelling them; we're holding the Capitol sir." The Chaplain said this slowly, the static almost too heavy for Thomas to understand.

"What?! An Ork horde is on its way and the planet it rebelling?" Thomas asked in horror, if this was the fact, then it mind soon mean that more Chapters or regiments of Imperial Guard may need to be deployed.

"Roger Captain, we believe that something is very wrong here, we suspect that the forces of Chaos may very well have something to do with it, we believe the people dressed in the large over coats maybe cultists. Annihilate any you can find." Only anger consumed him, unbelievable anger, the Angels of Death were trying to protect these people from the Orks, and they try to kill them, ungrateful arses.

"Chaplain, I want you to open the door and unload everything you have in the ranks of the mob, I'll hit them from the side and come in, we have a three minute window, starting now." Thomas sprinted, covering the long gap between him and the door, several seconds later the door opened and flame engulfed the mob and bolt fire did as well.

He shoulder slammed the mob as he had done previously, spraying the fire into the mob, it joined the flame of his battle brothers, covering the majority of the riot, their last dying screams were high pitched as the bullets from the bolters sank into their flesh, leaving massive holes in their unhealthy bodies, some escaped, jumping into the fountain to quench the flame. He felt sorry for them; they would live the rest of their lives in sheer agony if they weren't killed.

More rioters came from the streets, awakened by the call to battle, many were wearing the long coats of the gangster, or cultist from what he had heard over his vox, and the pellets rang against the walls of the Center, las-guns tried their aim at him and thankfully most failed. Thomas rolled into the Center, the door being shut and locked behind him.

The White Angel's went back to their posts, covering the windows as they blindly fired inside the mob, you could be completely dead to sight and if you shot into the riot, there was a good chance your bullet would find a killing blow. "This is the squad 7, we are located at the Imperial palace and we are taking heavy fire, repeat we are taking heavy fire, support is needed or else we will be overrun."

"Roger squad seven, all squads are enroute to your position, repeat all squads are headed to your direction. This is Thomas, Captain of the first company; all squads are to head to the Imperial Palace to relieve the seventh squad immediately." He spoke in response to the seventh squad sergeant.

The Chaplain spoke up, his voice louder than any of those on his vox. "Sir, there is a security tunnel leading to the sewers, we weren't sure of whether or not to use it. Shall we Captain?" Thomas nodded, everything went to hell and with this they may be able to survive.

"First squad, rig the door, Chaplain, come with me, when the rest of you are done, meet us at the security door." They all nodded, going to rig the door with frag grenades, and other explosives. The Chaplain led him through a series of doors and halls.

The hallways were masterly crafted, the walls were velvet, and the carpet was a thick black, it somehow angered him to see such a place in perfect condition while his men were covered in blood and were wounded. Mortals were selfish, completely selfish. But the Emperor was too merciful, letting the cockroaches live in his glorious kingdom.

"We must hurry Captain, the squads will be regrouping soon and it would be advised that the more numbers we have the larger of our chances of victory will be." He led him to a large metal door, hitting it open with his metal boot; the metal door seemed at first not wanting to give, but eventually it weakened, the door swung open after a series of several hard kicks from the Chaplain.

The _Astartes _burst through the door, carrying their large weapons and for the first time Thomas saw how much blood covered their armor, was that their blood, or the rebels. The heretic's most likely and he could only think as he looked over their giant, blood covered armor, some pieces of flesh stuck to the once white armor. _Did he look the same as his battle brothers? _He felt like it, tired, but he needed to push on, if he did not, they would be consumed like Opis was.

The explosion roared through the hall ways, shaking the very foundation of the whole entire building, loud footsteps could heard as the mob swarmed into the building, it would take some time for them to reach their position, but not long at all, he estimated they had at most thirty seconds for them to run as fast as they could.

"_Astartes!_ Go, go, go!" The White Angels raced passed him just as the first members of the mob rushed through the hallway, he turned to the onrushing rebels, his flamer spewing a bright tongue of yellow heat at them, they screamed in sheer agony, their flesh starting to turn the color of black as their skin was completely scorched to a crisp.

"Burn heretics!" He screamed, the flame engulfing the first people of the mob, he backed up slowly, the flame burning bright has he made his way to the sewers. He closed the door behind him, sprinting towards his battle brothers.

"It won't take long for them to breach the door, hurry brothers!" They sprinted as fast as they could, covering hundreds of yards in just a few seconds thanks to their implants. The mechanical enhancements building up their endurance as they went, the mucky water squishing under their boots, and splashing on their armor, washing off some of the blood from them, slowly, panting consumed them and they stopped, almost unable to breathe as they tried their best to regain the breath that was so precious to them.

"We head north…Then we take the first exit we can and make our way topside to the Palace…" He looked around him, the White Angels already regaining their air. "That clear?" He asked them, his breath returned to him.

They nodded at him, and their trek began once more, no longer a sprint, only a slight jog now. "Captain, what do we do when we reach the Palace?" The Chaplain asked, carrying a bolt pistol and a medium sized cudgel.

"Depending on the situation we will relieve 7th squad then regroup our numbers and push onto a counter attack, Chaplain." Thomas spoke through breaths, pacing himself as he jogged.

The ladder came into view quickly, leading to the surface, a sigh escaped his throat, it was easier and closer than he had thought, and he praised the Emperor for this blessing. "Jon, Kald, up first, the rest of you second, I and the Chaplain will go last."

"Sir yes sir." They all said, Jon and Kald heading up the ladder first then the other two and lastly the Chaplain and him. And he was nearly blinded by the sight that consumed his vision.

The city was completely aflame; bodies littered the street in front of him, showing that more _Astartes_ had been through the area, it was a good and bad sign. The good sign was that the White Angel's first company had been regrouping; the bad news was that the whole city was in revolt, within only a few days before the Orks invaded.

Their journey continued, running through the deserted street of the city, the only noise was the crackling of fire around them and the moaning noise as the dead slowly started to fade, their life blood seeping out until they were virtually dry of it. Thankfully they found none of the bodies of their own, and if they had, they would've been immediately taken them and sprinted to the Palace in hopes of salvaging their Gene-seed.

The sounds of gunfire were close, this was true, small arms fire and the occasional scatter gun shot, but there were other types of guns as well, bolters, flamers, even the sound of something he could only pray for, a thing so fierce that it may change the very battle its self. A being near death but incarcerated in a suit until death, made to do the will of the Emperor forever.

And as he turned the corner of the street, his hopes were met with completion, the mighty Dreadnaught, Ucifer, the former Captain of the 8th company, he was incased in the giant metal suit that all Space Marines that were dead and alive at the same time must wear. A mighty Gatling gun was in the stead of its right hand, shooting down any and all rebels that approached it. The gates were opened to the Palace and P.D.F. shot their Las-Guns in organized volleys at ranks of the oncoming rioters, there were thousands, but as the _Astartes_ shot their guns from the top of the gates, he knew that the traitor's minutes were numbered. Quickly, while the heretics were held at bay, the 1st squad members ran to the gates, firing off their own weapons as they went.

"Get…In…" The Dreadnaught spoke, sending out another spray of gunfire, tearing hundreds of the rebels down, the streets practically flooding with their life liquid, he let his flamer roar, burning the bodies and hopefully killing any of the survivors that were left from the spray of gunfire the Dreadnaught had sent.

Quickly, firing as they went, they reached inside the gates and mounted the stairs leading to the top of the gates. "White Angels, all Squads report!"

"Squad 2, present."

"Squad 3, present."

"Squad 4, present."

"Squad 5, present."

"Squad 6, present."

"Squad 7, present."

"Squad 8, present."

"Squad 9, present."

"Squad 10, present."

"Good, all squads, press fire on the Rebels, give them all the gunfire you can, Devastator squad 9; provide heavy fire on their ranks. Squad 8; order me a Thunder Hawk two minutes ago! The rest of you, burn the heretic!" He screamed, one of the other men guarding the gates throwing him a bolter, and with that he aimed it and began firing at the former loyalists, this was his calling, this is what he was truly made for, what he was to do until his life ended, and he was perfectly content with doing so.

Even with these orders being enacted, the rebels did not stop, and worst, more and more of the men in long coats began to appear, their scatter guns hitting the gates and destroying the ranks of the P.D.F. "Ucifer, target the civilians, all squads that have not been ordered an objective, you are to focus fire on the long coats, repeat focus fire on the long coats!" He barked the orders into his vox, aiming his bolter and picking off each man wearing a coat, his enhanced vision helping him complete his goal.

"Emperor Damn it, there are too many! Where is our air support?!" He yelled into his vox, and almost as soon as he asked this request, the Thunder Hawk roared by overhead, the noise practically deafening, as it hovered over the mob all of them stood still, shocked, and for the a moment the heretics stood, complete and utterly stunned upon seeing such a massive machine of death, and as it opened fire on the ranks of the traitors, he couldn't help but call out the Emperor's name in triumph.

"Emperor be praised!" He cried, raising his hands up in a slight prayer.

"Squads 5, and 6, you take the first guard. The rest of you, take a moment to rest, refurbish your ammunition and clean you gear. I shall contact the Chapter Master to find out our status." They acknowledged his command and went about their business; Thomas however, went to the Palace.


End file.
